To end it all
by PandorasDeath
Summary: Surrounded by his godfather's things at Headquarters Harry decides that his cursed existence must end. The task falls to Snape to save the-boy-who-lived from himself. (complete)
1. Chapter 1

Harry had arrived home for the summer holidays after his fifth year at Hogwarts different from when he left. His frame taller, his shoulders broader, his hair longer and his emerald eyes more haunted. The Dursley's, not used to doing much thinking about the boys' well being, were utterly clueless as to what had brought about the change. Fore it wasn't just the change in his physical appearance that raised eyebrows, but his temperament had been altered drastically as well. They had no idea the horrors Harry had faced over the course of the school year.

Harry was forced to endure many horrible things during his fifth year at Hogwarts; the tyranny of Delores Umbridge, the mounting stress of his OWL's, being banned from quidditch, becoming more intrinsically linked to the Dark lord as well as witnessing his Godfather's death. These events, combined, succeeded where alone they would have failed. They broke the boy's spirit and left him an empty shell of his former self.

Harry also learned the reason for his cursed existence. It was revealed to him, by Dumbledore.A prophecy, made before he was even born, declaring him either murderer or victim of the Dark Lord. It was this, coupled with the death of his God father, which had brought the boy so abruptly out of childhood. At the tender age of fifteen he was given the daunting task of saving the wizarding world.

It was hard to believe when looking at Harry that he could save anybody, not even himself. The raven haired boy was currently lost in yet another daydream staring up at the ceiling of the smallest bedroom at number four Privet drive. He was reliving, for the thousandth time that summer, the horrible events surrounding Sirius's death.

This happened every time Harry's mind was idle, something that happens a lot when you shut yourself away in your room all day. It was as if there was a film, always waiting, queued up in the back of his mind waiting for Harry's guilt to flip the switch and start playing. It always started in the same place in the big stone room where the veiled Dias was kept. Sirius and Belatrix are dueling, then Dumbledore charges in to save the day, capturing all the death eaters but leaving Sirius to fend for himself. Then everything would slow down as the last few blows of Sirius's duel were dealt. Sirius's face still laughing as his body arched andhe fell back through the veil.

When the filmed stopped, always at the part when Harry genuinely wished with all his being just to die and be done with life already, Harry's pillows would be drenched with the remnants of his silent tears. For some reason Harry felt the death of his god father cut him far deeper then the death of his parents. Perhaps it was because Sirius played both father and brother to Harry, or because Harry gotten to know Sirius better. He often felt guilty when he thought of this. Surely it was improper that he should be more upset over the passing of his godfather than the passing of his parents. However, Harry conceded, the smattering of memories the Dementors attacks had retrieved of his parents were hardly the stuff dreams were made of.

Harry had just finished reliving the film again and began to wipe the tears from his face when a rapping was heard on the window. Hedwig had returned from her hunt and was carrying a letter.

Harry let the beautiful snowy owl in for food and water and untied the leather carrying pouch and retrieved the letter.

Dear Harry,

Hoping this finds you well, I'm writing to invite you to come and stay with us at Headquarters for the remainder of the summer holidays. We, that is to say the guard, will be by the following evening to escort you. In case you are wondering we are still located in the same place as last time. I cannot disclose any more information at this time see you soon

**Lupin**

Harry couldn't believe his eyes; he read and reread the letter several times. Why wouldn't they have changed locations? Surely Dumbledore knows of more secure locations. Why were they making him return to a place filled with so many memories of his deceased God father? Didn't they understand that seeing his godfather pass away and being responsible for it was eating him up inside? Didn't they understand how horrible it would be to be surrrounded by the haunting memories of his deceased godfather. Harry's thoughts turned to escape, he had to escape this torture that they were going to set upon him. He got halfway to the door when his rational mind caught up with him. He couldn't just run away, that would be exactly what Lord Voldemort would want.

Harry solemnly began to pack his trunk, gathering books, quills, parchment, and various other objects from all corners of the room. Harry sat down on his bed, lost in thought once again. This time tomorrow he would be back at number 12 Grimmauld place, could he handle it. He had handled worse, this was different somehow, this was an emotional attack not a physical one.

Harry's thoughts roamed through the darkened corridors of Sirius's house. The halls that they had decorated over the Christmas break, the room where they kept Buckbeak and caught Sirius singing Christmas carols. The fireplace wherer Harry's head had once stuck out of while talking to Lupin and Sirius about his dad. Sirius had seemed so proud and so happy discussing the day down by the lake.


	2. Chapter 2

The decorations hanging about the walls and across the entry ways of number 12 Grimmauld Place were magnificent. A birthday banned declaring "Sweet Sixteen" hung over the kitchen, scarlet and gold streamers flowed along the perimeter of a room that, previously, was as dark and cold as a dungeon. The fireplace crackled with the portraits of all of Sirius's long dead relatives, finally unstuck from the wall. The kitchen table had been set up in the middle of the room with a variety of magical and muggle refreshments. Music permeated the room, adding to the noise of the guests.

All the Weasleys, nearly everyone from the Order, Hermione, and a few choice students (who's memories would have to be modified later), had come to celebrate the sixteenth birthday of their friend and savior, the-boy-who-lived, Harry Potter. The only problem was he was no where to be found.

Well not entirely, Harry knew exactly where he was, Hell. Or at least the closest he's ever come to Hell on Earth. Up on the top level of the house, in the room where Buckbeak usually slept, Harry sat in a corner looking at the photo of his parents wedding. Lily and James waved from either side of a laughing, handsome man Harry had once regarded as a mixture of both brother and father. So it was only fitting, Harry thought, that he was dead like the rest of his family. Come to think of it they all had three things in common, one they had all loved Harry as a son, two they were all dead, and three they had all died because of him. It seemed a disturbingly dark equation to Harry: Love + Harry Death. He really ought to warn the others, he thought viciously, they were in terrible danger.

Staring into the face of his recently deceased godfather tears treacherously ran down his face. Harry blinked and looked up at the ceiling in an effort to force the tears back where they came from. He stared hard at the drab, grey walls, not really seeing the walls. Instead he saw the laughing face of a man surprised by death; instead he saw the heavily lidded eyes of a woman he had come look upon with more hatred than Voldemort.

Harry looked around the depressing room, noticing the oddly clean rectangles of wall where portraits used to hang, wondering why Sirius never took the time to have his portrait painted. He certainly had an overabundance of time in the past year, being cooped up with Kreacher all day. Come to think of it why didn't anybody bother to get painted, at least then he would have been able to talk to them after they'd left him.

Harry wiped his eyes on the sleeve of the Weasley jumper he was wearing and stood up; they would be cutting the cake soon and would notice if he wasn't there. He dusted off his clothes and made for the door. Just as he reached out for the door handle someone on the other side opened it and smacked him in the face with the door.

"Aahh! What the hell!" He shouted at the unknown intruder. He held his hand over the throbbing pain in head and glanced at who his attacker was.

"Oh, sorry Harry, didn't see you there." Hermione apologized. "What are you doing up here all by yourself? You do realize that, as the party is for you, you ought to be down there?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"I just came up here for some fresh air," Harry lied lamely.

Hermione glanced around the musty, dusty, dirty room with an appraising look on her face, "Well I can see why you came up here then. Really, so much fresh air, I think I'm getting lightheaded." She grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the room and toward the stairs, "Come on, everyone's waiting for you to cut the cake"

Against his will Harry was dragged down to the party. When Harry arrived at the entrance to the kitchen he found all the lights turned out.

"_Incendio_" a whispered spell and suddenly sixteen candles shone brightly atop a giant, triple layer, double chocolate fudge cake. Vivid green writing scrawled across the cake proclaimed Harry's sixteenth birthday. All at once people began to sing in tuneless voices.

"Harry, make a wish" the voice echoed inside his head. _Make a wish Harry. _What was the point, the only things he ever wanted were impossible. He wanted Sirius back, he wanted to follow him through the veil and bring him back. And so that was what he wished for. On Harry's sixteenth birthday he wished for death and blew out all the candles. The room went black, enveloped by nothingness, and Harry fooled himself for a moment by thinking his wish had come true.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry looked miserably around the room and found it ironic that the only person who didn't seem to be enjoying the party was him. Ever since he was a little boy, watching the guests arrive for one of Dudley's birthday parties, all he'd ever wanted was a proper birthday. Presents stacked to the ceiling, room filled to the brim with friends and family, and a cake with his name on it lit with candles, and a room singing to celebrate his birth. Now, he felt, he'd give it all up just for one moment with his godfather.

"Hey, boy, come here." Moody's growling voice beckoned. He was standing in the corner of the room next to the pile of presents, his magical eye scanning the room rapidly.

Harry sighed and went to see what Moody wanted.

Moody gave him an appraising look, "Bet I know what's on your mind. And I've got something here for you." Moody grabbed one of the presents piled on the corner table, "I wanted to give this to you in private, but this will have to do." He handed the poorly wrapped present to Harry and walked off towards the refreshment table.

Harry wondered what his old DADA teacher had got him for his birthday. Probably something to help him fight the dark arts, like a Foe-Glass or something equally useless like that. Harry tore the wrapping from the package and was surprised to find a leather photo album with his name engraved on the front in gold lettering.

Harry opened the album to the first page where he saw his parents smiling and waving at their wedding reception. Below that they were flying on broomsticks, and beside that his father was playing quidditch with Sirius, Remus and, to Harry's disgust, Wormtail. James flew up the pitch and put the Quaffle through the hoop, punching the air with his fist in celebration of the goal. James did mock bows to his invisible audience and Sirius hit a bludger in at him forcing him to hang upside down on his broomstick. In the next picture James, on broomstick, had caught Sirius in a headlock and was messing up his hair.

Harry laughed, a small tear trailing down his face. He turned the page and saw his mother and father sitting under a tree by the lake. Behind them Sirius was creeping up with a water balloon. In the next frame a thoroughly soaked James was drowning Sirius in the lake. Harry was soon overcome with emotion. It was all his fault! All these smiling, happy, wonderful, talented people were dead because of him. He let the album slip through his fingers and fall to the floor.

Harry exited from the room, running up the stairs and into the bathroom to wash the tears from his face. Harry slammed the bathroom door shut behind him and locked it. Harry sat down on the edge of the bathtub and let all the turmoil and guilt bubble up inside him. His face was now leaking disgustingly and he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jumper. Looking at the sink and mirror in front of him Harry's eye caught sight of the glinting metal of Ron's shaving kit.

With no real conscious thought of what he was going to do Harry grabbed the kit and climbed into the bathtub, Harry could feel the hard wood of his wand sticking out of his back pocket as he sat down in the cold steel tub. Rolling up the sleeves of his sweater Harry's heart started pounding erratically in his chest. His tears were now so uncontrollable he had to blink every few seconds in order to clear his vision. Wiping his nose in the elbow of his sweater one last time Harry thought of the last time he spoke to Sirius and how he would be with him once again.

Harry pressed the razor to the flesh on his wrist and felt the cold metal bite and pinch as he dragged it across. Dark red blood began to leak profusely from his left wrist as transferred the blade form one hand to the other. Pressing more deeply and cutting more quickly this time Harry parted the flesh of his other wrist. As Harry watched the life drip from his body he felt something close to relief.

Deciding at the last moment that he should leave some kind of note for the ones that found him Harry transferred the blade back to his right hand. He rolled up the pant leg of his eight sizes too large pants and cut into his flesh. The razor bit and pinched at his skin as he left his final good-byes scribbled upon his flesh.

Lying back in the tub Harry began to feel light headed and remembered, or perhaps dreamed, of happier days. Days spent in Godric's Hollow with his parents and a tall handsome man that couldn't stop picking him up and throwing him in the air. Higher and higher he went, nearly brushing his head on the ceiling then cradled as he was caught.

Molly noticed the party starting to drag on a bit and decided that it was time to open presents, "Gather round everyone, its present time! Harry! Harry dear, it's time to open your presents." Molly peered anxiously around the room hoping to get a glimpse of the messy, raven haired boy.

Hermione searched anxiously around the room hoping that Harry hadn't abandoned his party again, people might start getting offended.

"Not to worry, Molly, I'll give a quick look for him," Moody growled as his electric blue eye scanned the crowd and then the house for a sign of the boy. "Oh, I see him. Looks like he's upstairs taking a bath..." Moody's jaw dropped, "Dumbledore you better get up there now!" Moody yelled, making half the room jump.

Dumbledore and Moody started quickly up the stairs, "What is it Moody?" Dumbledore asked.

"Let's just say I haven't known many people who take baths with their clothes on" Moody grumbled.

Dumbledore's eyes widened in horror and he began to climb the stairs two at a time. When he reached the bathroom door it burst open with a loud crashing noise that could be heard all the way downstairs. The tile surrounding the bathtub was spattered with Harry's blood, smears of it along the rim of the tub and on the blade that now lay on the outer edge next to Hermione's shampoo. Dumbledore entered the room and knelt beside the tub, taking Harry's pulse.

Harry's eyes were wide and glassy, his lips light blue, his skin sweaty and white, his limbs still and lifeless, but he had a pulse. It was faint, like a birds feathers beating lightly against the walls of its cage.

Arthur, Molly, Hermione, Ron and an entire room full of spectators gathered around the door. Hermione took one look at the glassy eyed, would be corpse of her best friend and hid her face in Ron's chest. Somewhere in the distance Ginny screamed and Molly tried to shield her daughter's eyes. Ron, who could only stare horrorstruck at the scene in front of him, was the first to see it, carved into the flesh of his best friend's leg, just a few words and that in blood, 'The boy who lived no longer.'


	4. Chapter 4

Harry failed that day, and the irony was lost upon no one, that the boy who usually succeeded in everything he did would fail at the one thing he wanted most. And so Molly bandaged his wrists until a healer could arrive, and Arthur gave Harry the remnants of the Blood Replenishing potion from last Christmas. They carried him from the bloodied bath tub and into Harry's bedroom. Harry, whose eyes still contained the look of death, did not move, nor did his body betray any likeness of life. There was nothing about the boy that testified to his being alive save for the faint, yet steady heartbeat they could hear in his chest. Lupin, followed by Hermione, Ron, Ginny and a few other Weasleys, carried Harry into the room. Lupin placed the boy sitting upright against the head board, but before he could take a step back from the bed a sharp snap, like the breaking of a tree branch was heard, and a magical explosion rendered everyone unconscious.

Lupin had unknowingly set Harry down upon his own wand which broke in half. Lupin realized this when he awoke moments later and saw the broken pieces sticking out of Harry's back pocket, and some sticking into Harry's leg. Harry appeared not to have moved or even blinked, and showed no signs that he was in any kind of pain from the wood now sticking into his thigh.

The others started stirring and Lupin looked around the room. With a sharp intake of breath Lupin saw that the entire room was covered in messy black handwriting that had not been there when they had carried him in. Lupin stood up and wandered over to one of the walls and examined one of the scribblings on the wall.

"She's closing in on me now, I've always wanted to kiss her but does she have to be crying when I do it?" Lupin read the thought out loud.

"I'm not going to die crouching behind a tombstone, I'm going to die like my father, facing my enemy…God, I don't want to die. I wonder if it will hurt" Hermione read aloud from her side of the room.

"Why won't he just let me go? I want to be with Sirius. Where does that veil lead anyway?" Ron stared dumbfounded around at a room covered in Harry's thoughts.

"I remember this one," Lupin said in an awed whisper, "When he opens that cabinet I will hear my mothers voice again, maybe even hear my father."

"I could just give him the stone, if it would bring my parents back, I mean I'd have to have it in writing or something, I don't know" Ron read aloud. "Is he talking about the Philosophers Stone?" Ron asked.

"It's all my fault, some hero I turned out to be. I swear I'll never be the hero again just please, God, send him back. Why can't he just come back?"

Hermione turned away from the wall, "It's awful. I never knew he felt this way." She ran out of the room.

"I'm going to be with Sirius and my parents again. Ouch, that hurt but what a pretty colour. Pretty soon I'm going to be with the people I love, and I wonder if they have Quidditch…" Ron gasped, "I think I'm going to be sick"

Lupin walked soberly from the room to find Dumbledore waiting on the other side. The old man looked tired beyond his years, and the sparkle in his eyes was now nothing more than the glimmering of not yet realized tears.

Dumbledore entered the room and shut the door. He was in there long enough to heal the gashes on Harry's arms and to diagnose the poor child as catatonic. When Dumbledore glanced down at Harry's leg he noticed that the cuts there had already scarred over, like magic. Dumbledore walked somberly from the room and headed down to the kitchen.

All the party guests had left, leaving only members of the Order and the Weasleys behind to wait for news about the boy. When he entered the kitchen it was to inform them of two things, that Harry was catatonic, and that he was leaving on urgent business in the morning.

Molly burst into tears and begged Dumbledore like an inconsolable child to fix Harry. Ron looked confused at the word catatonic, and Hermione let a guilty tear slide down her face before burying it in Ron's shoulder. Snape, who had arrived only minutes before, sunk into the shadows to be alone with his thoughts, which consisted of little more than chastisement for an overindulged, selfish boy.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Really freaking short, but then so was the last one, the next should, by all means, be longer but I will not swear to it.

Snape was perhaps the only person other than Harry to feel so uncomfortable in the House of Black. It was by all means out of no affection for the deceased man, but merely the reminder of someone who had tortured and bullied him as a child. And so it was with no small amount of animosity that he now trudged through the soot-blackened halls towards Harry's room. He cursed Dumbledore for being away on business, he cursed that wretched know-it-all for suggesting the ludicrous idea, and he cursed himself for showing an aptitude for an uncommon ability. Snape was about to enter Harry's mind through Leglimens and try and reach the boy.

Snape knocked on the bedroom door, and waited stupidly on the other side for a minute before remembering that the boy was catatonic and would likely not be answering the door anytime soon. Grateful that no one was there to witness his stupidity Snape entered the room and sneered at the handwriting covering all the walls; completely self indulgent.

Snape walked over to the boy who was sitting vacantly on his bead against the head board. Harry's eyes were open and staring fixedly at nothing, his body was limp and his muscles unresponsive. Snape, always a skeptic when it came to matters concerning the boy, removed a safety pin from the pocket of his robes. Holding Harry's hand palm upwards Snape stared intently at the boy as he pierced the skin of the boys hand with the pin. Passing between the bones and muscles tissue the pin poked and stretched the other side of Harry's hand before piercing through the skin. Snape stared at the boy and the boy stared at nothing, not a flicker of an eye, nor wince of pain testified that the boy felt a thing.

Setting Harry's hand back down on the bed Snape retrieved his wand from inside his robes Snape pointed the wand at Harry's head, "Leglimens"


	6. Chapter 6

Snape looked around his unfamiliar surroundings and sneered. "Perfect! Just bloody perfect, Potter has pulled me into his bloody mind! Arrogance" Snape was on a street surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns and freshly washed cars. It was already past dusk and the stars were shining brightly in the night sky. In the background he could hear a dog barking viciously. Snape followed the noise into the backyard of number four Privet Drive.

Looking in the back window of the house Snape could see a very fat man and woman sitting at the television beside a very boney looking woman and an obese child that was playing at a computer game. Wondering why he was here Snape turned his attention to the constant growling of the dog. It was at the base of tree barking at something at the topmost branches.

Peering up through the leaves of the tree Snape observed a small boy, maybe eight or nine years old, with messy black hair clutching at the branches and staring terrified at the dog below. The boy peered right down into Snape's soul with a pleading helpless look.

From inside the house Snape could hear the ringing of a telephone through an opened window. The obese man picked up the phone and grumbled some response to the person on the other end. The man threw a careless glance out the back window to the dog barking at the tree then grumbled again and hung up the phone. He tapped the obese woman on shoulder, gestured towards the backyard, and they both headed towards back door.

These, Snape supposed, must be the boy's muggle relations. The fat man and woman must be his aunt and uncle and the fat child their son, the skinny woman must be the maid or a relative or something. They stepped out into the garden and in a grumbling voice that matched her husbands the fat woman called the dog off and ushered it inside the house.

"Boy! Get down here now and stop fooling around." the fat man bellowed through a very large mustache.

The small boy climbed down from the tree and wiped his face on the back of his sleeve. The boy followed his aunt and uncle into the house and Snape moved to a different window in order to get a better view. Without any deviation the boy marched straight into the cupboard under the stairs where his uncle proceeded to lock him in for the night.

Snape's jaw dropped. This was not how Snape had pictured Harry's life at home at all, not that he had given it too much thought. He had pictured doting muggle relations who thought it was absolutely wonderful to have a wizard in the family, not to mention the wizard who had saved them all from the Dark Lord. These people looked like they had no clue that the boy was even special in any way.

Just as Snape was coming to terms with this new look on Harry's home life the scenery around him changed and he was suddenly in the kitchen of the house on a warm summers day. The fat woman was gone but the skinny woman had Harry seated over the kitchen sink and was cutting his hair, poorly. She had hacked off everything but a portion of the boy's fringe that hung directly over the scar.

"Aunt Petunia," The boy said timidly, "Why do I have a scar on my head?" The boy glanced over at Snape with a thoroughly miserable look on his face.

The woman frowned at the boy and replied snappishly, "You got it in the car crash that killed your parents, now don't ask questions." She made a few more snips at his hair and showed him his reflection in a small hand held mirror.

The boy's lower lip trembled but he seemed to know better than to cry about it. He slid off the counter, thanked his aunt in a shaky voice and went into the cupboard under the stairs. Snape could hear the boy's crying from within the cupboard, and so, apparently, could his Aunt. She banged on the cupboard as she passed and threatened him to stay quiet.

The scenery changed again to a boy sitting on a bench in the garden muttering something under his breath. Snape walked closer and heard the tuneless song of Happy Birthday being sung from the boy. Snape had had enough of this self-indulgence.

"Potter!" Snape snapped.

The boy looked up at him, "Yes Snape?"

"You know the fact that this is your twisted little mind has not escaped my attention, however, as I am still your teacher you will address me as either professor or sir." Snape said in a cool voice. "Now what are we doing here?"

"This is my aunt and uncles house." Harry replied simply, "It's where I go to live during the summer holidays." Harry went back to staring at his feet. "Sir" he added more as an after thought

"Yes, but why?" Snape asked.

"This is the summer after I came face to face with Voldemort for the first time- but hold on a second I like this part." Harry looked up at his cousin.

An extraordinarily large child wandered into the backyard with a smug gloating look on his face. "I know what day it is…" Snape observed the child taunting Harry about his birthday and his school and was shocked when Harry brandished his wand and threatened his cousin with it. This must be the incident when Harry used magic outside of school. What a disgusting display, Dumbledore had always defended the boy and here he is using magic against his muggle cousin.

"You know you're not allowed to use magic outside of school and yet you think you're above the rules. My, my Potter, what a big head you have, it's a wonder it hasn't rolled off your shoulders. What did you think? That the Ministry would let you off because you're _the_ Harry Potter…"But Snape never completed his thought for at that moment he caught a few of the words Harry was mutter as a spell. It was not magic at all, merely gibberish used to fool the boy into leaving Harry alone.

Before Snape even had time to eat his words the scenery changed again, his surroundings became like freshly stirred vegetable soup, swirling colours and shapes. Snape found himself inside a different house on a different street but sitting next to two people he would recognize anywhere, Lily and James Potter.

He could see Harry peering through the bars of his play pen at his parents. "Da!...DA!" Harry did the retarded jump of a child who had not yet mastered the motor functions of his legs. James smiled over at Harry and made a face, sticking out his tongue. This sent Harry into a fit of giggles and James walked over and picked him up. Lily went into the kitchen and started preparing dinner.

Snape looked at the child, all chubby cheeks and glowing smiles, "I had no idea you remembered all this." The child simply stared back at him.

"Neither did I until third year, this is what I see and hear when the Dementors attack me" A present day Harry said from behind Snape's back causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. Harry raised his eyebrows at that and an amused smirk flitted across his face. "What? You didn't expect him to answer you, did you?" Harry gestured at the small child, then quickly added, "Sir"

What's so horrible about all this? If this is your worst memory…" Snape sneered at the sickly sweet scene around him, a doting father playing with his first born son while his wife was making dinner in the kitchen.

"Shh! Sit down, you'll miss the show." Harry took a seat on the living room couch as though he were about to watch a film, in fact popcorn appeared out of nowhere and Harry popped a few kernels into his mouth. He mimed checking his watch and gave Snape a skeptical appraising look, "You're not going to stand there are you? Trust me, I've seen this a thousand times this is the best angle. Hurry it's about to start"

Just as Harry finished his sentence a pounding was heard at the front door. James ran over to Lily, handing her the baby, "Lily, take Harry and go! It's Him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" Lily took only two stumbling steps from the room when the door burst open and a high-pitched cackle was heard.

From Harry's seat on the couch he had the perfect view of the scene in the kitchen and front lobby. Voldemort's tall frame toward over James's as he carelessly muttered the words that had killed so many wizards.

Lily set Harry down in the playpen and pulled out her wand turning to face her attacker. There were tears in her eyes as she begged for the life of her child. Snape sat down beside Harry, who offered him some popcorn from his bucket. Lily's lifeless body crumpled to the floor as Voldemort closed in on baby Harry.

Within moments it was all over, baby Harry was crying desperately, the house was crumbling in around him and the bodies of his parents were laying on the floor.

"So what was the point of showing me all this?" Snape asked trying to sound thoroughly disinterested.

"Who says this was for you? Now who's being arrogant!" Harry said in a mocking tone. He popped a few more kernels into his mouth.

"You know I'm no bleeding heart but how can you just sit there calm like this when you just saw your parents murdered?" Snape asked curiously

"Well I hardly knew them, can't even put a face to them most of the time. The only depressing part about all this is what happens after wards, when I'm sent to go live with my aunt and uncle." Harry answered simply.

The room started to swirl again and Snape rolled his eyes…


	7. Chapter 7

Ron had just finished changing Harry's clothes when Hermione's gentle know was heard at the door. Everyone was behaving as though Harry was an extremely ill individual who needed rest when it was quite clear that you could strip naked and dance in front of him and Harry's disposition would not change in the least. Ron called for her to enter and stood up to greet her.

"Has there been any change?" Hermione asked timidly. She peered around Ron's tall frame at Harry's lifeless form. His stillness reminded her uncomfortably of that brief time during her second year when she spent a semester petrified. She wondered if Harry was trapped like she was, fully conscious but unable to move or respond in any way.

Ron gave a deeply sarcastic roll of his eyes and said, angrily, "Who do you whisper? All of you! He can't hear you!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, more to illustrate his point than out of any real malice.

"I know that Ron!" Hermione said sternly. "It's just habit. He's been in and out of infirmaries quite a lot these past years and it's become routine"

"Sorry, it's just tense, you know?" Ron was fighting with the impulse to cry when Hermione noticed the new bandage on Harry's hand.

"What's that all about?" She asked concernedly

"Oh!" Ron followed her pointed finger and sized the opportunity to change the focus a little. "It's pretty sick, really. We found a safety pin sticking through the middle of his hand. Dear old Snape's idea of a laugh, no doubt. Let's torture a dead body, he can't feel it" Ron said savagely.

"Don't say that Ron. Harry isn't dead, he's catatonic." Hermione said quietly.

"Why do you always do that? When ever someone's dead you make like they've gone on holiday or something. You did with Scabbers and now you're doing it with Harry. He's gone, might as well deal with it." Ron was so angry, at the world, at Hermione for being so calm, at Dumbledore who just had to be away when they needed him the most.

"Harry is not dead!" Hermione shouted at him, losing her cool. "He's catatonic, he's catatonic, he's catatonic" She repeated it like a Hail Mary that would save them all.

"Same thing though, isn't it?" Ron continued on unrelentingly. "I mean aside from a beating heart and breathing lungs he's got more in common with a corpse than with us." Ron appeared to be taking great person offense to Harry's inactive state. Perhaps it was that his best friend was usually at the center of the action, or perhaps it was the fact that Harry was **_his_** best friend and Ron should have noticed that Harry was slipping that hit Ron so hard. Whatever it was that was eating away at Ron he had decided to get angry rather than break down in tears like everyone else.

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and chose to ignore Ron's last statement rather than address the pain she saw behind Ron's eyes. "So what's with him then?" Hermione nodded her head in the direction of the bed that had once been Ron's which now held the lifeless form of their potions teacher.

"We're not quite sure. Dumbledore reckons that when Snape tried legilmency Harry's mind sucked him in." Ron threw Snape a look of utmost loathing mingled with something that looked suspiciously like jealousy.

Hermione looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from flowing down her face, but her actions only served to remind her that her best friend's deepest thoughts and emotions were plastered on the walls. 'Why doesn't he just kill me? End this pain. It won't be so bad I'll get to see Sirius again. Why doesn't Dumbledore just end my cursed existence?'

"Come on, let's go. It creeps me out to spend too much time alone with them." Ron made to turn Hermione around and usher her form the room but she didn't budge.

She looked up into his hazel eyes, all her pain shining in her unshed tears, "In a moment"

Ron left the room shutting the door softly behind him as Hermione sat down on the bed beside Harry.

Hermione dealt with her grief differently than the others, she had come to regard Harry' lifeless form as her 'Father Confessor' telling him her innermost secrets and fears. In front of everyone else she was strong and collected but she cried for Harry. Some nights, during the sleepless hours of the early morning she would crawl in bed beside him and whisper in his ears about the nightmares that plagued her dreams.


	8. Chapter 8

Snape's background stopped changing and he found himself in the Dais Room in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. He looked around, thoroughly unimpressed by his surroundings. Everyone was standing freeze-frame in the midst of battle, Dumbledore stood in the doorway, a faint aura of power glowing off of him, the members of the Order were in varying states of battle, and Sirius and Bellatrix were up on the Dais.

The only other person in the room who seemed to be moving was Harry, who sat with his head in his hands on the steps leading towards the exit. He did not look up as Snape approached him, bending down in order to be eye level. Snape was relieved to see a much more distraught looking Harry.

"You know," Snape spoke in a maddeningly soft, cool voice, "If you had only listened to me and practiced Occlumency we wouldn't be here right now." Cooling down his tone even more, as though to rub some salt in Harry's wound he continued, "But you, like your father, have always been exceedingly arrogant. You probably had better things to do than to clear your mind before you went to sleep. A task, I might ad, should have been extraordinarily easy for someone like you, who hasn't got much in his head to begin with"

"You're right! What could I possibly have on my mind that's so important? I Mean I've only saved everyone from Voldemort how many times? Three, maybe four? And then there's the whole issue of seeing someone die in front of me. But hey, I should have been able to empty my 'pretty little head' of everything that was bothering me because Merlin knows how many times everyone tried to explain to me how important it was, and why I was doing it, and you know the possible drawbacks to not doing it!" Harry's voice echoed around the cavernous room his voice becoming louder with each successive word. "But wait, hold on a second, HOLD ON A SECOND! That's not right 'cause see no one bothered to explain to me it was so important to learn Occlumency. I mean for Fucks Sake! Five minutes out of someone's day to maybe explain to me about something that directly affects me! But No! You didn't, did you! And Lord knows Dumbledore was **_far _**too busy to even look me in the face all year never mind explain something that important to me-"

Snape interrupted him, "And why should we tell you anything! What complete and utter arrogance to think that a man as powerful and wise as Dumbledore owes you anything! Besides, you are always so concerned with playing the hero, always running around trying to save everyone, I doubt it would have made any difference even if we had told you" Snape was keeping his voice low and even, he knew it would enrage the boy and Snape wanted to keep the upper hand.

In contrast Harry's voice was becoming more loud and sarcastic, "Well that's my job isn't it? Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived and Wizard Savior at your service!" Harry did a mock bow sneering at his professor as he straightened up.

"What are you babbling about, Potter?"

"The prophecy! Surely you know about the prophecy, the one everyone's been guarding all year" Harry looked incredulously at the uncomprehending look on Snape's face. "You do know, don't you? This is priceless!" Harry laughed a deep, cruel laugh, "Hold that face I want to take a mental picture." Harry, realizing what he just said, burst out laughing again. "A mental picture that's a laugh!"

"Shut up and get to the point, Potter" Snape growled

Harry got a feeling of immense satisfaction from the change in Snape's demeanor; he was finally getting under Snape's skin. Seizing the upper hand Harry spoke in mocking tones that he knew would enrage his professor, "Well, Snape, mate, there was a prophecy made oh about seventeen years ago foretelling of someone who had the power to destroy Voldemort. Now I know this is a tough one so I'll give you three clues as to who that person might be." Harry started to pace back and forth as he read off his clues, "Clue the first, he will be born to parents who have thrice defied the Dark Lord, clue the second, he will be born as the seventh month dies, and clue the third the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal." Harry smirked at the stunned look on Snape's face.

"So vague, it could mean just about anyone. Yet you are so confident it means you, yet again you show your true colors as a self-important, deluded attention seeker!" Snape was rapidly regaining his composure.

"Actually according to a, what were the words you used, ah, yes, a 'powerful and wise man', "Harry gestured towards the frozen Dumbledore in the doorway, "It was narrowed down to me and Neville Longbottom," Harry walked over to Neville giving him an appraising look, putting his arm around Neville's shoulders, "for oh about a minute. But then Voldemort attacked my house and marked me," Harry pulled up his fringe, "As his equal." Harry started pacing again, "But hold onto your socks ladies and gentlemen we're not through yet there's one more surprise behind door number three. Although I have the power needed to vanquish the Dark Lord that just might not be how this whole scenario plays out, 'Niether can live fully while the other one survives, a life that must include or end in murder'. How poetic, don't you think?" Harry was thoroughly enjoying mocking and shocking his professor, finally he knew something that git didn't.

Snape glared at him with a look of mixed hatred and jealousy, "What an important role you have to play, Potter. You must really be reveling in it. You finally have something to back up that big head you have. But you'll forgive me if I don't kiss the hem of your robes just yet, I might want to wait to see how this turns out first" Snape sneered

Harry looked at him fathomlessly, "Did you even hear a word I said? The world literally rests in my hands, hands that must either be stained with blood or laid to rest. Have you any idea what that feels like? To have the lives of everyone you've ever known and loved resting in _your_ hands? Not the billions of older, wiser, more experienced, more capable wizards," Harry gestured wildly to all the other people in the room, "Yours!" Harry turned away tears flooding his eyes, "I'M TERRIFED! DO YOU HEAR ME? TERRIFIED" Harry yelled at Snape till his voice cracked and became hoarse, "It's all I can do not to just run away from it all and let Dumbledore, who I know is a zillion times more qualified, deal with this. Why do you think I'm in here?" Harry gestured at his surroundings, "All the wonderfully pleasant memories I have?" Harry wiped his face on his robes and turned back. Harry ran his hands through his hair in frustration, "I don't want to be the one who has to face Voldemort! But it's not Dumbledore the prophecy refers to, and without me nobody stands a chance, I might as well murder them with my own hands."

Harry sat back down on the steps, head in his hands grasping his hair by the roots, sobbing almost silently. Snape sat down beside him and did the most shocking thing yet, he put his arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry looked at him with the most painfully pleading look on his face, one that begged for someone, anyone to just make it all better, to fix it. That look pulled at something deep within Snape's chest that he never thought he had. Looking into emerald eyes filled with tears Snape wished he had the power to take the enormous weight off of Harry's shoulders.

"Prophecies aren't written in stone…" Snape began but was interrupted.

"Don't bother," Harry let the tears wash down his face. Snape pulled Harry into his arms and let him cry himself into exhaustion. Several minutes passed and Harry finally calmed down enough to pull away. "I'm ready to go home now."

As if his words were a magical spell their surroundings began to melt one final time.

A/N: The whole 'i'm terrified' thing was influenced (isn't that just a lovely synonym of Plagorized) by the scene in 'As Good As It Gets' When the gay neighbor freaks out.


	9. Conclusion

Harry blinked his eyes for the first time in several days and felt his body stiff from a prolonged inactivity. He yawned and stretched as best he could with his stiff limbs and that's when he noticed Hermione snuggled up against him. She was in her pajamas snuggled up in his arms, bushy hair covering half her face. Harry looked around the room and remembered where he was.

Snape sat up and grunted in pain as his back protested his movements. He stood up, grimacing in pain as he did, and walked over to Harry's bedside, "Well, Potter, that was certainly interesting, but let's not make it a habit, shall we?" Snape's lips almost curled into a smile before he remembered himself and walked briskly from the room.

At Snape's voice Hermione began to stir, the sun was poking through the curtains as the dawn broke over the horizon. Yawning and waking form her sleep Hermione looked up in to Harry's emerald eyes and was shocked to see them staring back at her. "Harry! You're awake." She said as though he needed the update. Yelling at the top of her voice she alerted the rest of the house to the wonderful news, "EVERYBODY COME QUICKLY HARRY'S AWAKE! HE'S AWAKE!" she smiled sheepishly at a very startled looking Harry, "Sorry, couldn't help myself" She climber off the bed and opened the door wide so that everyone could enter.

"Wait, Hermione" Harry said quickly before everyone arrived to see him, " Why were you sleeping in my bed?" He asked genuinely perplexed.

Hermione blushed and shuffled her feet nervously, searching for the right words. Even though there was nothing romantic in her intentions or the way she felt about Harry she still felt awkward. She was saved from answering the question by an overjoyed Ron, thoroughly relieved Mrs. Weasley, a couple of rambunctious Weasley twins, and an entire crowd of well-wishers who had all been taking it in turns to watch over the boy.

It was a wonderful homecoming for Harry, everyone was so relieved to have him back among the living, so to speak, that they seemed to have entirely forgotten the circumstances surrounding his illness. Mrs. Weasley insisted on cooking a feast that they would not soon forget, while the twins set off an entire case of their deluxe firecrackers. Harry's face seemed to be stuck in permanent smile mode the entire day. It was only as the early hours of the next day approached that Harry's mood changed a little.

Snape, who had tried to escape the festivities but was caught at the front door by Mrs. Weasley, had kept a watchful eye on Harry the entire time. He alone knew the dark inner workings of the boys mind and could not with any certainty say that the boy was as cured as everyone believed him to be. Snape was the first to notice the grin slide from Harry's face as it once again became solemn. Snape didn't need legilmency to know what the boy was thinking.

Over the next few days nobody but Snape seemed to notice the boy's gradual change back into silence. Snape feared a relapse. One day before Snape was to go on a mission for the Order he sought the boy out for one final conversation.

"Harry, I wanted a word with you before I left." Snape's voice lacked it's usual cold tone and didn't sound quite the same, "I wanted to make sure you weren't planning any more attempts at escape"

It was as though Snape had never left his mind, Harry stared up into the black eyes of his potion's teacher, "No, I know I'm not as cheerful as everyone would like me to be but I've finally accepted the role I will have to play in the upcoming war." Harry's eyes tried to convince Snape that he was telling the truth. "If I can't change it, and I can't escape it, there's nothing else I can do. There is no point in fighting the inevitable and there is a certain comfort in that" Harry explained.

"Good, I'll be back in a week and I expect to find you here in excellent health, promise" Snape asked the boy uncomfortably

"I, promise" Harry replied with no real conviction.

The next day Harry watched from his window as Snape left Grimmauld Place. He felt a great sadness inside knowing that the only person who truly understood how he felt was leaving him. He felt utterly alone once again. Harry heard Mrs. Weasley's voice calling him. They were all going to go to Diagon Alley to pick up their school supplies that day. Harry watched Snape's receding form until the last wisp of a cloak was out of sight.

The end…or is it? MOO-WHO-HA-Ha-ha

No, it isn't. I already promised a sequel. Or did I? Moo-who-ha-ha-ha.


End file.
